


Not A Lack of Love

by HallowedHeart



Series: A/B/Overwatch [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedHeart/pseuds/HallowedHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://heartunderstars.tumblr.com/post/148190742983">These</a> <a href="http://heartunderstars.tumblr.com/post/148205514473">posts</a> got me thinking, and I’m incapable of taking a shot of whump without a chaser of HC and fix-it and fluff. Thank <a href="http://dont-worry-my-friends.tumblr.com/">dont-worry-my-friends</a> for me tripping into the A/B/O garbage pile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Lack of Love

  
Jack hasn’t said a single word.

He’d been following McCree like a shadow since he woke up in quarantine from a drug induced haze; McCree figured he probably was expected to go home, so that’s where he headed with Jack trailing five feet behind him the whole way. McCree couldn’t even tell what the man was thinking, wearing that goddamn visor.

McCree fuckin _hurt_. His knuckles were bruised and scabbed, every muscle in his arms and shoulders ached, his voice a rasping croak when he could get his thrashed throat to work. Worst of all was the feeling like cold lead sunk in his gut: he’d been in quarantine. Something terrible had happened. He’d done _something_ , and he couldn’t piece it out from the fog of his memory during the rut and the drugs.

Angela was standing at his door. He suddenly couldn’t get enough air, and he felt sick. Angela was talking to someone standing on the other side of his door, and she glanced over when she heard him and Jack approaching. Their eyes met and she hesitated before giving him a smile. McCree couldn’t bring himself to return it.

“Good evening, Jesse,” she greeted, warm and still smiling. The door was open and there she was, wrapped in one of the blankets they kept thrown on the couch and a fuzzy halo of weak light behind them. She wasn’t hiding behind the door, but she couldn’t seem to meet his gaze completely. He felt sick. Angela stepped around him, looping her arm around his shadow’s elbow. “Jack, why don’t you walk me back.”

And then they were alone. His scabs itched and his knuckles ached. He wondered if he’d broken something.  "Hey,“ he rasped, and something seemed to shift in her.

"Hey,” she murmured back, moving to open the door wide enough to let him in. “You’re home.”

The door shut with a soft click behind him, and when he pulled his gaze up from the floor she finally met his eyes. She was just watching him, waiting patiently, but there was a strange rigidness in her posture that he knew she was trying to fight. Still, she didn’t flinch or pull away when he reached up, tugging the blanket clutched at her throat open. There was a strangled little sound and McCree realized that he had made it.

“I should have listened to you,” she said as he looked at the purple bruises finally starting to fade on her throat, the sling and brace holding her wrist and arm immobile. “Dr. Ziegler says I’ll be fine in a few weeks at the most.”

All of the air was somehow sucked out of the room and McCree heard himself make that noise again, clinging desperately to her hands as she ran her fingers over his abused knuckles. “Baby, I-,” he started, pulling in a shuddering breath when she moved into his space and pressed her head to his chest.

“We’ll make it work,” she promised, pressing her mouth to his bruises. “We’ll figure this out, Jesse.”

A little bit of the cold in his belly seeped away then, and for now he just let himself hold his mate close and bury his nose in her hair, surrounded by the smell of her. “Yeah,” he croaked, and she pressed harder into him. “Yeah, we’ll make it work….”


End file.
